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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30018528">Yield</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/clottedcreamfudge/pseuds/clottedcreamfudge'>clottedcreamfudge</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tooth-rotting Malec nonsense [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadowhunters (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alec makes it better, Canon Compliant, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Flash Fic, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Magnus Bane Needs A Hug, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Fluff, Soft Boys, Sweaters, This really is just very soft, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, magnus has a bad day, very soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:20:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30018528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/clottedcreamfudge/pseuds/clottedcreamfudge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey,” he murmurs, somehow managing to form words around the lump in his throat, “how’s the most beautiful man in the world doing this evening?” Alec doesn’t look up from his book, and his expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of movement at the corner of his mouth, as though he’s trying not to smile.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he says calmly, turning the page of his book and continuing to read, “how are you?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tooth-rotting Malec nonsense [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>351</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Yield</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Magnus’s day has been long and hard, and he’s too tired right now to even make a dirty joke about that, which says more about his headspace than anything else. He’s been portalling all over the UK and Ireland because some absolute idiots decided to try and summon a greater demon and, while they did not succeed, they certainly brought <em>something</em> unsavoury through the rift; if it’s bad enough to require his help from across the pond, suffice it to say that it might as <em>well</em> be a greater demon. Perhaps a step down. A greater demon’s beleaguered secretary.</p><p>Maybe just a <em>great </em>demon? Not up to Magnus’s usual standards of pun-based humour, but he really is rather tired.</p><p>When he gets back to the apartment block, he looks at the stairs, considers portalling, then settles for the elevator as a compromise. He slumps against the wall after pressing the button for the top floor, the enthusiastic vibrations coming through the metalwork just about the only thing keeping him awake and upright for the journey. It’s quite one thing to portal to and from England - then around the sodding isle and beyond playing catch-up - and another thing again to do so with barely any magical energy left in one’s reserves. Summonings take enough out of him as it is - banishings all the more so.</p><p>When he finally gets the door to the apartment open, the gentle prickling of wards over his skin is incredibly soothing, the familiar feel of it reminding him that he is <em>very much done now</em>, and he can go to bed. To sleep. For many, many hours. It’s possible that the kind of sleep he requires is more akin to a gentle coma, in fact, but if that’s what it’s going to take in order to feel semi-human again? He’ll take it.</p><p>For all that he’s semi-human in the first place, he supposes.</p><p>When he reaches the living area, he is in fact <em>so</em> tired that he almost doesn’t notice Alec sitting there. When he does, his heart lurches in his chest, and he has to reach out to steady himself on the wall. Alec is absorbed in a book - it looks like Jane Austen, which is just so <em>utterly</em> charming that it takes Magnus’s breath away - and he doesn’t appear to have noticed Magnus’s arrival; he must be equally tired for his Shadowhunter reflexes to have failed him so spectacularly, and the warlock finds himself zeroing in on the dark circles under Alec’s eyes, wondering why he’s still up.</p><p>He knows why he’s still up. He waited up for Magnus, like he always does. It makes Magnus feel warm all over, for all that he’s terribly concerned about both of their mental states at the moment. They’re going to end up going quite mad if they don’t get a bit more sleep between them, and he’s already been accused many times of being a little unhinged as it is.</p><p>Magnus then notices something else, and it’s a testament to his fatigue that he didn’t see it sooner, because it should have been <em>glaringly </em>obvious. Alec is wearing a sweater that is most certainly not his, the stretched neck of it almost falling off one shoulder and baring a delicious amount of his collarbones and muscular shoulders to Magnus’s view. The sleeves are a little short, but Alec has solved this problem by pushing them up to his elbows, the soft burgundy material gathered there to show off the strength of his forearms.</p><p>Magnus knows he’s not doing this on purpose - knows that Alec just grabbed something that looked comfortable and pulled it on - but right now he looks like some kind of domestically tempting fantasy. It’s one of Magnus’s sweaters, of course, which only makes the picture more alluring; he throws the old thing on over his yoga clothes when the temperature drops in winter, but he’s absolutely certain the soft, worn fabric has never looked this good on <em>him</em>.</p><p>“Hey,” he murmurs, somehow managing to form words around the lump in his throat, “how’s the most beautiful man in the world doing this evening?” Alec doesn’t look up from his book, and his expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of movement at the corner of his mouth, as though he’s trying not to smile.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he says calmly, turning the page of his book and continuing to read, “how are you?”</p><p>This is horrible. Magnus should not feel affected by this stupid <em>wordplay</em>; the conversation in hand does not warrant the tears that try to well up in his eyes, or the terrible and familiar way his heart constricts behind his ribcage.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he says, trying for airy and missing by several thousand miles. His voice sounds cracked, and Alec looks up now - because of course he does. What better time to pay attention than when Magnus is a breath away from a weird emotional breakdown over his boyfriend telling him he’s beautiful? Apparently he isn’t allowed to have <em>peace and seclusion</em> for such a display.</p><p>“You look exhausted,” Alec says softly, and a moment later his book is carefully marked and closed, placed on the coffee table for another time. He stands and walks towards Magnus, pulling him into a soft hug that smells of leather, crisp autumn leaves, and something hot and slightly smoky. It’s the most comforting smell in the world and Magnus melts into him like his bones are made of warm tar, moulding to the steadfast support of Alec’s muscular frame in an instant.</p><p>“I <em>am</em> exhausted,” Magnus mutters into Alec’s chest, but there’s no heat to it; it’s a simple statement of fact. “I want to sleep for a hundred years.” Alec chuckles, the sound of it warm and comforting where Magnus has his face pressed against Alec’s heart.</p><p>“Not all of us have that much time to spare,” he says lightly, and Magnus doesn’t want to look at that too closely. He never does. He has even less space in his mind for that thought than usual right now, so he wraps his arms a little tighter around Alec’s waist and lets his breath out all at once.</p><p>“Take me to bed, Alexander,” Magnus says instead, and Alec complies, lifting Magnus as easily as if he weighs nothing at all. Alec lays him on soft satin sheets with an achingly soft kiss to his temple, before curling around him, both of them fully clothed and too tired to rectify the situation. Magnus could do it with magic, but he’s not sure he has the capacity or the desire to take leave of the quiet, aching softness between them right now. </p><p>He curls his fingers around the sleeve of Alec’s sweater - because Magnus can’t think of it as <em>his</em> anymore, not now that he’s seen its full potential - and lets himself drift. A world with Alexander in it cannot possibly be as ruined and fractured as he has felt it to be today.</p><p>The thought carries him into dreamless sleep, his mind making anchors of the warmth of Alec’s body curved around him and the soft material under his palm.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, this was quite obviously inspired by <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/39/43/ae/3943aef9ce0da0f2af6f73a81400ba1e.jpg">this post</a>, but the actual prompts were "post no-good-very-bad-day cuddles" and "wearing the other’s sweater". Anyway this was very quick and very soft and it's yours now. Thanks.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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